


A Collection of IronDad/SpiderSon Tropes/Whump

by SkiLift



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Avengers Family, Car Chases, Domestic Avengers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Is Alive, Fever, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sick Character, Sickfic, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-11-02 07:51:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20674190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkiLift/pseuds/SkiLift
Summary: I have several long breaks between classes this semester. So what better time to pretend that Endgame never happened? This will be a collection of tropes and whump from IronDad bingo and whatever else I find on tumblr (or whatever you guys request). Enjoy!





	1. Trope: Thermoregulation

As soon as the bell sounded at the end of the day, Peter was up and out of his seat, determined to beat the horde of students to the front doors of the school.

“Geez, Peter, where’s the fire?” Ned asked as Peter shoved his notebook into his backpack. Peter paused a moment and turned to Ned, nearly dancing on his toes, antsy to leave.

“I have my inte-“ Peter paused again and lowered his voice to a rushed whisper, “my internship, remember?” Peter made intense eye contact with Ned, urging him to acknowledge the unspoken secret between them. Recollection lit up Ned’s face and he leaned in and lowered his voice to Peter’s volume.

“Do you need your guy?” Ned whispered (if it could be considered a whisper due to how Ned was struggling to contain his excitement).

“Not this time, man.” Peter internally flinched when Ned’s face fell at his response. “Next time for sure, though!” He was quick to add. Ned’s enthusiasm returned and he nodded with bright eyes. Peter gave him a small wave and rushed out the door, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He was instantly caught in the middle of the throng of students but after several “excuse me’s,” he was out the door, striding confidently into the brisk December air. The trademark New York winter hit him like a slap to the face and he shivered violently, walking with renewed purpose towards his favorite back alley.

After a ten minute walk, he arrived and was thoroughly chilled to the bone. _I should really bring up the whole “spiders can’t thermo-regulate” thing with Mr. Stark next time we’re in the lab, _Peter idly thought as he crouched behind a dumpster and began digging through his backpack. He figured he’d forget by then, though.

Peter wrenched the spider-suit out from under his school supplies and enthusiastically began shucking off his shoes and socks. Once he was shirtless and stripped down to his boxers, Peter could hardly control the shivers wracking through his body enough to shove his legs into the suit. Once everything was situated and he had adjusted his webshooters to fit snugly onto his wrists, Peter webbed his backpack to the back of the dumpster and finally, _finally _pulled the mask over his head.

As soon as the OS booted up, KAREN was quick to interject.

“Welcome back, Peter. Your internal body temperature is quite lo-“ She started.

“I know, I know, can you crank up the heater, please?” Peter interrupted. Heat instantly flooded throughout the suit and with it, the feeling returned to his fingers and toes. Peter sighed contentedly as his extremities returned to a healthy temperature. “Ah, thanks Karen.” He bounced on the balls of his feet, stretched his shoulders, and rolled his neck, raring to go. “What’s on the docket for today?”

After a split second of silence, KAREN piped up. “A gas station is being held up on Metropolitan and 70th – shall I put it on your map?”

Peter launched himself to the roof of the building adjoining the alley. “Yeah, definitely, that’s awesome, Karen!” A waypoint appeared in the lower corner of his HUD, along with the distance and ETA. “W-well not awesome, obviously, but you know what I mean!” Peter stepped back a few paces like a sprinter awaiting the starting gunshot, ran, vaulted off the building, and he was off. He couldn’t help but let out a whoop of excitement as he swung between buildings and over the heads of onlookers, relishing in their exclamations as they spotted him. In that moment, Peter was never more thrilled to be himself. Nothing was quite as exhilarating as the sensation of rising and falling, rising and falling, at such high speeds. Like a roller coaster without the price of theme park admission (and the stress and noise of large crowds).

As Peter neared the blip on his map, he could hear several police sirens overlapping, and KAREN (always mindful of his enhanced senses) automatically muffled the sounds to a bearable volume. Peter mentally thanked his lucky stars that Mr. Stark had designed her to be so intuitive.

Landing softly behind the barrier of police cars, he approached the group of officers. “Hey, guys!” He announced. “Need help?” As the officers turned and acknowledged his presence, Peter tried not to let his ego inflate as several pairs of shoulders visibly relaxed.

“There’s two guys in there an’ they both got some kinda crazy alien gun with multiple hostages. This is outta’ your league, Spidey, you better sit this one out.” An officer said gruffly, clearly not as relieved as the others. “We got our negotiator on the way.”

Under his mask, Peter grimaced at this. He was about to try and charm the officer into letting him through when a loud explosion sounded from inside the convenience store. The officers were sent into a panic, some huddling behind their patrol cars and others barking orders into their radios. Peter was the first to recover from the initial shock and the explosion was just the distraction he needed to launch himself past the officers and headfirst into the store. Diving through the cloud of dust and debris, he was quick to assess the situation and it seemed as if the two robbers didn’t even notice his entrance. He ducked behind the shelves and began plotting his approach. There were several hostages sitting against the far wall with asshole number one keeping his gun trained on them. Asshole number two was behind the counter and looked as if he was attempting to blow apart the safe. The weapons they held were clearly not anything of human design. Asshole one turned his head to address the other.

“Well?” He demanded. “Did it work?”

“No, man, this safe is made a’ diamonds or something. Didn’t even make a dent!” Asshole two replied, clearly becoming progressively more frantic.

“Well, goddammit, try again!” Asshole one barked back. The men were obviously becoming unhinged and that amplified Peter’s concern for the hostages, seeing as one of the unhinged men was currently aiming a very large gun at them. Asshole two’s gun began to hum, as if it was recharging for another blast. At that moment, one of the hostages, a young woman, noticed Peter slinking around the shelves and her face lit up with recognition. Peter frantically tried to signal her to keep her head down and stay quiet but it was too late. Asshole one instantly noticed the shift in her demeanor and began turning around. Peter made the snap decision to announce his presence.

“Those are some pretty cool guns, guys, where’d you get ‘em?” Peter asked coyly as he stood to full height and came out from behind the shelves.

“Not another step!” Asshole one was quick to react, swinging his gun around to aim directly at Peter. “This doesn’t concern you, Spider-guy. Walk out now and I won’t blow you to pieces.”

“Y-yeah, you’d better leave!” Asshole two hopped over the counter and took Asshole one’s place, aiming his gun at the hostages. It was humming louder now. Peter knew he had to act quickly.

He raised his hands placatingly, “Alright, easy there, gentlemen. Wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt would w-“ Peter’s sixth sense flared to life and he jumped to the side as Asshole one fired, an intense pulse of energy decimating the spot where Peter had been seconds ago. Asshole one seemed taken aback, as if the gun had misfired, but the gun began to recharge all the same. The shot was all that was needed to cause Asshole two to snap completely. He charged at Peter, swinging the gun around like a club and consequently leaving the hostages completely unguarded. With the attention of both men on Peter, the young woman from earlier seized the opportunity to usher the group towards the emergency exit. Peter felt a spark of pride at her initiative but his attention was quickly drawn back to Asshole two. He ducked out of the way, narrowly missing a blow to the head. His spider-sense flared again and Peter dodged as Asshole one fired another blast and several shelves were blown away. Asshole two let out a guttural cry as hes sprinted full-tilt towards Peter. With one sweep of his legs, Peter had incapacitated Asshole two and webbed him, along with his weapon, to the floor.

“You should really work on your attack strategy.” Peter quipped down at him as he struggled fruitlessly against his restraints. He turned around to face the other man. “And now for your frien-“ Peter didn’t get to finish his sentence as his spider-sense screamed at him from the back of his head. It was too little, too late, though, as Asshole one fired another shot and it hit Peter square in the chest. To say he had the wind knocked out of him would be the understatement of the century. Peter was thrown back against the wall with such force that he was pretty sure he created a sizeable hole in the plaster. His head was slammed back so hard Peter’s vision blacked out for several seconds.

When it returned, his HUD was glitching and jumping around, only serving to intensify the intense ache in his head. The horrible ringing in his ears was his only indication that he hadn’t gone completely deaf.

As soon as the ringing subsided enough, Peter realized that KAREN had been speaking to him “-everal functions in the suit are malfunctioning and I am detecting a severe conc-“

“N-Not right now, please, Karen.” Peter choked out. Even his own voice worsened the pain in his head. Shakily rising to his feet, he noticed with a sharp pang of panic that Asshole one had vanished. He launched into action, vaulting over the debris and outside to find with no small degree of relief that the police officers had tackled Asshole one a few yards down the street. Another officer approached him and softly asked if he’d like to be seen by a paramedic but Peter waved her off and returned to Asshole two. Peter ignored the curses and damnations being spit at him as he shuffled past, ripped away the webbing securing the gun and hoisted it into his arms, intent on taking it to Mr. Stark to hear his thoughts on the matter. Peter figured that he had cleaned up the last of the alien tech from the whole Vulture incident but clearly he was mistaken.

With the gun in tow, Peter exited out the back and clamored up the side of the building, picking out Avengers Tower from the distant skyline. It was then that a violent shiver ran up Peter’s spine and his teeth began to chatter.

“K-Karen, can you t-turn up the h-heater, please?” He grated out. 

“The blast disabled several suit functions, including the heater. Would you like me to contact Mr. Stark?” She asked innocently.

“N-no, that’s okay, K-Karen. It’s n-not very f-far to the T-tower.” Another shiver wracked his frame. After confirming with KAREN that the webshooters were still functional, Peter made his way towards the tower, albeit slowly.

“Peter, your internal body temperature is decreasing. Would you like me to c-“

“No, d-don’t contact him, K-Karen! It’s not m-much farther, n-now.” Peter hadn’t meant to sound so snappy but his web-swinging was taking up more of his concentration than usual. An intense wave of exhaustion hit him mid-swing and he nearly lost his grip on the gun. “O-okay, I’m j-just gonna t-take a quick b-break.” Peter said more to himself than to Karen as stumbled onto a rooftop and plopped down against the roof access door. The gun slipped out of his arm and clattered to the ground but he was simply too tired to care. He wasn’t shivering anymore as his vision became blurred around the edges. “Just a…quick break…” Peter slurred out.

“Peter, your internal body temperature has violated the baby monitor protocol. Contacting Mr. Stark.” KAREN piped up, seeming as chipper as ever.

“Oh, yeah…that’s nice, Karen.” Peter’s head was bobbing as a dial tone played softly in his ear.

Mr. Stark picked up on the second ring. “Hey, kid, Karen tells me you’re turning into a spider-cicle. How goes the patrol?” Faint rock music could be heard in the background. The sound of his mentors voice snapped some lucidity back into Peter.

“Oh, you know, Mr…uh…Mr. Stark.” Peter mumbled, fighting to keep his eyes open. “It’s good…I’m just…taking a little n-nap…”

There was a beat of silence as the background music cut off completely. “A nap? Pete are you on drugs?”

Peter had to giggle at that. “Y-you know I don’t do…drugs, Mr. Stark. I’m just a little…tired…” Peter head began to droop more drastically. “Just taking…a little…rest.” He slumped over onto his side, teetering dangerously on the edge of unconsciousness.

“What’s going on, kiddo? You’ve gotta give me something here.” There was a faint shuffling on the other end and it sounded like Mr. Stark was on the move.

“Okay, sure…Mr. Stark…” Peter was too far gone to comprehend what was being said to him. Sleep was just too appealing.

“Where ar-“ Mr. Stark began but Peter was already unconscious.

Peter could have been asleep for seconds or hours, he had no way of knowing. When he finally resurfaced out of the inky blackness, his ears were greeted by the sound of his favorite superhero’s suit landing heavily on the ground several feet away. Still slumped on his side, he pried his heavy eyelids open to see the Iron Man suit peeling away from his mentor. Mr. Stark rushed to his side and dropped to his knees. Something about his presence flooded Peter with the warmth of safety so he figured it’d be okay to let sleep take him under. Suddenly, his mask was wrenched from his face and the cold air bit into his already frozen cheeks. From somewhere above him he heard someone let out a soft curse. Peter groaned and clenched his eyes shut, turning his head into the ground in a pitiful attempt to block out the cold. Suddenly, hands were on his face, so warm they almost felt too hot.

“Nuh-uh, Spider-kid, it’s not nap time just yet.” Mr. Stark sounded slightly panicked as he lightly tapped Peter’s cheeks, but that couldn’t be the case. Peter had never seen Mr. Stark lose his composure. “Friday, why the hell isn’t his heater on?” Mr. Stark demanded and there was a beat of silence in which Peter could only assume FRIDAY was giving him a response. “Shit, kid, why didn’t you call me?”

“Is okay…Mr. Stark…not even that…cold.” Peter hoped he sounded coherent but Mr. Stark seemed to get the message. Peter was suddenly struck with recollection. “Mr. Stark, the g-gun!” He blurted.

“Yeah, I see that, kid. But, believe it or not, I’m not too concerned about the gun right this second. I have to make sure a certain spide-“ Realization flashed through Mr. Starks eyes. “Spiders can’t thermoregulate…” He said to himself. He cursed again then addressed FRIDAY with renewed vigor. “Friday, increase external suit temperature,” He commanded. Shoving Peter’s mask into his pocket, he stepped back to let the suit envelop him. Peter was about to open his mouth to remind him about the gun but he was beaten to the punch. “I’ll send a suit later for the gun, kid.” Mr. Stark said, voice muffled slightly. Metallic arms worked their way underneath Peter’s knees and behind his shoulders and he was lifted up against a metal chest. It was pleasantly warm, Peter realized with a pleased sigh, and he turned his face into the source of the warmth. There was another bit of silence and he hardly noticed as the suit held him a little tighter.

“How do you feel about an aerial tour of New York, Pete?” Peter was asked as Mr. Stark readied for take-off.

“Yeah…that sounds…nice…Mr. Stark.” Peter mumbled lowly. Peter was hardly even jostled as they took to the air and he was perfectly content to fall back to sleep in the arms of his mentor.

When Peter awoke next, he was hot. Too hot. In fact, he was sweating profusely. He groaned and wrenched his eyes open only to be greeted by the sight of his own room at the tower. An unpleasant weight was sitting on his body and he stifled his panicked gut reaction when he realized it was only a pile of blankets, several of which were heated. Movement by his bedside drew his eyes to land on Mr. Stark, sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair and leaning over to rest his arms on the bed. He quietly asked FRIDAY to turn on the lights and she complied, at a dim setting, of course, just how Peter liked them.

“How do you feel, kiddo?” Mr. Stark asked softly as if Peter were a wounded animal.

Peter considered his question for a moment, mentally taking stock of how he actually _was _feeling. His head was still aching, but considerably less than before. “Sweaty,” He finally decided on.

That earned him a tired chuckle. “Yeah, that’d be the twenty heated blankets and the warm IV drip.” Mr. Stark explained. Peter hadn’t even noticed the drip but his eyes instantly landed on the catheter taped to the inner crease of his right elbow. He grimaced and looked away.

"So, uh…what exactly happened?” Peter asked, not entirely sure he even wanted to know the answer.

“You nearly became a popsicle, is what happened.” Mr. Stark seemed angry but he quickly reigned in his tone. “You got blasted with some kind of EMP which knocked out your heater. Karen called me when your temperature got too low.” Mr. Stark sighed and ran a stressed hand through his hair. “You gotta tell me when shit like this happens, kid.” He was making direct eye contact with Peter now and Peter fought the urge to look down at his hands. “Seriously, my old man heart can’t take it. I need to know the _second _something happens, kiddo.”

Peter nodded, finally looking down at his hands, trying in vain to keep the shame off of his face. Mr. Stark’s expression softened and he stood to remove a few of the blankets off Peter.

“Just get some more rest, kid, I know you’re still tired.” Mr. Stark smiled gently down at him. “You know the drill, tell Friday to get me if you need anything.” He leaned over and ruffled Peter’s hair before shuffling out the door and shutting it softly behind him. Peter smiled to himself. Mr. Stark had never done that before. He scooted back down into the pillows and conked out almost immediately.

And if Mr. Stark spent the entire night making sure Peter had a back-up heater in his suit and that the back-up had fifty other back-ups- well, Peter was none the wiser.


	2. Trope: May's Abusive Boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you guys can guess what this chapter entails. Be safe when reading, lovelies!

It had been about four months since May and Chad started dating. He seemed like an average guy and Peter liked him well enough despite how…overbearing he could be sometimes. Chad was beginning to come around their apartment more and more as their relationship, apparently, became more serious. When Peter would get home from school, there would be May and Chad, lounging on the couch or sitting at the table, chatting and laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world. Peter didn’t like how Chad’s smile never quite reached his eyes, but he would never tell May that. She had been alone since Ben, and if she was happy then Peter was happy. That’s what he told himself.

Peter clamored into the backseat of the garishly red Audi that had come to collect him from school. He had been practically vibrating with anticipation all day. Fridays were lab days, which means he and Mr. Stark would be up until the early hours of the morning, tinkering on various projects or coding new tech for their respective suits.

“Hey, Happy!” Peter called cheerfully to the driver. He was met with only Happy’s trademark “greeting grumble” and Peter smiled to himself despite Happy’s clearly _not _happy disposition. The two-hour drive upstate was spent in relative silence. Happy’s eyes remained fixed on the road and Peter was busying himself texting Ned or thinking of ideas for he and Mr. Stark’s lab time.

As soon as Happy pulled into the private garage of the Avengers compound and cut the ignition, Peter launched himself out the door, nearly forgetting his backpack in the backseat. The elevator doors were already open when he arrived as if FRIDAY could sense the excitement radiating off him. Lab days would never get old for Peter, he enjoyed his time with Mr. Stark too much to get bored.

Even without direction, FRIDAY delivered him promptly to sublevel three – Mr. Stark’s private lab. He was about to voice his appreciation to the AI but Mr. Stark presence distracted him. It was uncommon for Mr. Stark to be in this particular lab before Peter arrived, but he was happy to see the man, nonetheless.

Mr. Stark smiled, albeit tiredly, at Peter. “Hey, kiddo, how was that Spanish quiz today?”

Peter beamed at his mentor’s remembrance of such a small detail. “Pretty sure I aced it, Mr. Stark!” He replied happily.

Mr. Stark chuckled softly at his enthusiasm. “And how could you not with a mentor like me?” His expression was smug as he ruffled Peter’s hair. They delved into their work after that, shifting between complete silence as Peter intensely watched Mr. Stark handle delicate wiring, and Peter headbanging to AC/DC blaring through the overhead speakers. Peter was pretty sure he saw Mr. Stark watching him with an uncharacteristically soft expression on his face once or twice, but Mr. Stark had always quickly returned to his work whenever he had been caught staring. 

After integrating several new protocols and web combinations into the spider-suit, Peter’s eyes were gradually beginning to droop. He looked over at Mr. Stark to find his nose buried in a circuit board, goggles over his eyes as he cauterized certain connections. Peter folded his arms on the lab table, content to rest his head in them and quietly observe his hero at work. He didn’t even notice when he fell asleep.

Tony looked over at quiet form next to him. Peter had his head rested on his arms and the initial pang of panic was suppressed when Tony acknowledged that his chest was slowly rising and falling. Tony inwardly cringed at the way Peter was leaning so far forward. Sleeping while sitting on a stool couldn’t be good for you back.

Habitually, Tony looked up at the ceiling as if he could make eye contact with his AI. “Friday, what time is it?” He called to her softly.

FRIDAY matched his volume. “It is one thirty-seven in the morning, boss.” Tony had to cringe at that.

“Text May Parker and let her know the kid is spending the night.”

“Message sent.”

Tony looked fondly to Peter again. Every time they were in the lab, he was amazed at his prodigy’s brilliance. At this rate, he wouldn’t need to pull strings at MIT for Peter to be admitted. In fact, he was certain MIT would be scouting him soon enough. Tony was about to reach out to pat the kid’s endearingly curly head when a sharp vibration from Peter’s phone startled him and he retracted his hand like he had been shocked. Tony peered at the screen. _New Message: Chad, _it read. Tony quirked an eyebrow in confusion. That was May’s boyfriend if he remembered correctly. Peter had talked about him in passing but that doesn’t explain why he’d be texting the kid. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so uneasy.

When Peter woke up, he was more comfortable than he had ever been in his entire life. Far too comfortable, in fact, for him to be in his own bed. He cracked his eyes open and immediately stifled a groan as his vision was assaulted with the sunlight streaming into the room. He stretched his arms over his head, relishing in the popping of his joints, and let out an obnoxiously loud yawn.

“Good morning, Mr. Parker.” A voice from the ceiling startled him into full alertness and he sat up. He instantly recognized his personal room in the compound. FRIDAY continued, “Boss would like me to tell you that he was called away for official Avengers business and that Mr. Hogan will take you home when you are ready. Your aunt was informed of your overnight stay.”

“Okay, thank you, Fri-“ Peter paused, fully absorbing the information he was given, “Wait, what? Is it a mission? Do they need me?” He questioned urgently, already halfway out of bed.

“Boss anticipated this response and would like me to reassure you that Spiderman will not be needed for this assignment.” She sounded almost sympathetic. Peter instantly deflated.

“Ah, man…well maybe next time, then.” Peter assured himself and swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his phone to check the time. As soon as the screen lit up he was greeted with a message from none other than Chad. _That’s weird, _Peter thought, _he’s only texted me like twice. _Peter opened the message and was slightly unsettling by its contents.

New Message: Chad

_Where are you_

Peter closed the message. It wasn’t really any of Chad’s business where Peter was, but Peter really wanted to stay on Chad’s good side, for May’s sake at least. Peter set out to find Happy and the man begrudgingly agreed to drive him home. He idly checked May’s location- she was as the hospital. His mood soured a bit for her, it must suck to have to work on a Saturday. Peter’s thoughts wandered back to the unanswered message still sitting in his inbox. Why would Chad want to know where he was?

As the Audi pulled into the apartment complex, Peter’s eyes were drawn to a fancy looking luxury car sitting innocently in front of his building. The car was strikingly familiar but Peter just couldn’t place where he had seen it before.

“Your aunt get a new car, kid?” Happy’s voice snapped Peter out of his stupor.

“U-uh, no. She should still be at work…” Peter mumbled, his voice trailing off a bit. Happy grunted non-committedly and Peter took that as his queue to vacate the backseat. As soon as he was out, Happy sped off down the street and Peter turned towards his apartment, a feeling of unsettlement descending onto his shoulders. He shuffled up the stairs, pulling his key out of his backpack as he went. As he inserted it into the lock and turned, however, he was met with no resistance. The door was already unlocked.

Peter's heart began to beat a little harder at the prospect of someone having broken into his apartment. He checked May’s location to verify that she was, in fact, still at work. Gripping his phone tightly in his hand, he turned the handle and gently pushed open the door, peering around it to investigate before entering. Everything was in its place, nothing was broken. Peter didn’t let himself relax just yet as he stepped quietly inside, shutting the door softly. Peter cautiously approached the living room, looking around for anything that might set off his spider-sense, but it was suspiciously quiet. His aunt’s bedroom light was on, but it wasn’t uncommon for her to forget to switch it off before leaving. He decided to push his luck.

“Aunt May?” He called out timidly. “Are you home?” He was met with a beat of silence and then a harsh thud that made him take a nervous step back. He drew his hands closer to his chest as if that would protect him from the perceived threat. He could hear footfalls on the carpet, drawing nearer, and he braced himself for whatever was coming.

The person who came out of his aunt’s room, however, looking as if he’d been caught red-handed, was Chad. Peter relaxed only marginally- he still had no idea why Chad was in his apartment when his aunt wasn’t even home. Upon closer inspection of Chad’s face, however, any relief that Peter was feeling began slowly draining. He looked angry, angrier than Peter had ever seen him look.

“Where have you _been?” _Chad demanded, punctuating his sentence with a step forward, forcing Peter backwards another step.

“I- uh…at my internship.” Peter said timidly. He felt like he was admitting a wrong-doing, but he knew May had already told him about his lab days with Mr. Stark.

“So you spend a few hours with that Stark guy and suddenly you forget how you address me? You think you’re too high and mighty to even respond to a text?” Chad inched closer again. Red flags shot up in the back of Peter’s mind and he raised his hands placatingly.

“N-no I didn’t f-forget, uh, sir.” The boy stammered. Chad towered over him, looking every bit like a villain. Peter hoped to whatever higher power was listening that Chad didn’t treat May this way. A hand shot out and latched onto Peter’s wrist, hard. Peter stumbled backward but Chad’s grip was too solid and he was wrenched forward again. He knew he was strong enough to snap Chad’s wrist like a toothpick, but 15-year-olds aren’t supposed to possess such strength. Plus, if Chad didn’t get to take out his anger on Peter, what would he do to May? He had to protect her. If Chad did something to her, it would be his fault. _This is for May. For May, For May, For May. _He repeated this to himself like a mantra as Chad bent down and lowered his face so it was inches from Peter’s.

“Listen up, kid, and listen good.” He hissed lowly, dangerously. _Kid. _That’s what Chad had called him. He didn’t like that word coming out of Chad’s mouth. That’s was Mr. Starks name for him. “Don’t you _ever-“ _The jangling of keys distracted Chad and his gaze shot to the door. He stood up straight, released Peter, and took a step back as May pushed through the door, dressed in her scrubs.

“Peter, why is the door unlo-“ She looked up and her expression shifted easily into a pleased smile. “Oh, hi, Chad. I didn’t know you’d be here. I hope Peter was a good host while I was at work.” May’s soft gaze flickered between him and Chad. She didn’t seem at all concerned that Chad was in their apartment.

“Don’t worry, hun, he was _perfect.”_ Chad replied easily, grinning down at Peter. Again, Peter repressed the shudder that was threatening to crawl up his spine at how there was nothing behind Chad’s eyes. No love, no kindness, nothing.

“I’m glad.” Aunt May continued smiling brightly as she moved through the apartment towards her bedroom but stopped in front of Peter. She peered down at his face, and Peter was suddenly irrationally afraid that she could read his thoughts. “Peter, honey, what’s the matter? Did Flash say something to you at school, again? I swear if that little shi-“

“No, May, it wasn’t him. Nothing is wrong, I promise.” Peter plastered a fake smile onto his lips. He didn’t need his spider-sense to feel the threatening aura emanating from the man next to him.

This seemed to please May. “Alright, well you boys play nice. I, on the other hand, really need a shower. There was this one patient today who smelled like a-“

“Actually, May,” Chad cut her off and Peter’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. He hoped Chad didn’t notice. “I was just about to head out. I’m meeting my sister at that Thai place you and Peter love.”

May seemed disappointed that her boyfriend was leaving but her cheerful disposition held. “Alright, well, tell Rachel I say hello!” And with that, May went to her bedroom, leaving Peter and Chad in the living room. Peter’s entire body was tense with nerves but Chad’s posture was as relaxed as ever. Chad turned to Peter who tensed at the sudden movement.

“Well, Pete,” Chad put more emphasis than necessary behind the name. “See you around.” Chad reached out and Peter flinched away, instantly blanching when he realized Chad might react negatively to his reflex. He didn’t, though, and a heavy hand was placed a little too roughly on Peter’s head. Ruffling his hair and chuckling darkly, Chad _finally _made his exit.

Peter’s shoulders finally relaxed and he quickly went to his room, dumping his belongings onto the floor and examining his wrist to find a perfectly hand-shaped mark marring the otherwise unblemished skin. He clutched his arm with his other hand and sat heavily onto his bed before his jelly-legs gave out underneath him. The adrenaline from earlier left his body in one fell swoop. He let his head fall and tension returned to his shoulders as he tried to stifle his sobs. He couldn’t tell anyone. If he did, they would try to get involved. If they got involved, May would suffer the consequences. He was completely and utterly alone. This realization was the final straw and the tears finally flowed freely.

Chad was relatively well behaved after that incident. The bruise faded quicker than it would on a human, thanks to his healing factor. Peter’s life continued normally and, as long as he continued addressing Chad in the way he liked to be addressed and returned any messages in a timely manner, Chad left him alone. He and May seemed happy together. She smiled and laughed more than she had in months. Peter would endure anything for her, he decided.

“Hey, kiddo, hand me that soldering iron, would ya?” Mr. Stark asked. Peter jumped into action, grabbing the tool and handing it over. Mr. Stark grunted his thanks and they continued their work on the Iron Man suit. Mr. Stark motioned for FRIDAY to lower the volume of the music. “How’s May and that guy? What’s his name, again? Jeff? Steve- uh..”

“Chad.” Peter amended. “And they’re good. They seem pretty happy together…” Peter kept the tension he was feeling out of his voice. “May really li-“ Peter was interrupted by a vibration and he looked around the mess of tools and parts strewn about the table for the source. Mr. Stark beat him to it, reaching over and grabbing Peter’s phone, glancing at the screen as he did so.

“Geez, kid, someone’s popular.” Mr. Stark commented, handing over the phone with an unreadable expression.

The color instantly drained from Peter’s face when he saw the notifications.

(8) New Messages: Chad

(3) Missed Calls: Chad

“M-Mr. Stark, I have to go home, like right now.” Peter looked at his mentor with a pleading expression. Peter knew what it meant when he ignored Chad. What if he was at the apartment right now? Even worse, what if May was there with him? He had to get home.

“Uh, kid, it’s like midnight, Happy left a while ago.” Mr. Stark regarded him with a confused expression. “Just spend the night like you normally d-“

“No!” He blurted, then reigned in his volume. “I’ll take the bus or something. See you next week, Mr. Stark.” Peter was already sliding off the stool and cramming things into his backpack. His mind was running a mile a minute.

“Buses don’t run this late, Pete- what’s the rush?” Mr. Stark followed Peter to the elevator and they stopped in front of it.

“I just- I really have to get home right now.” Peter was getting frantic and he hated the concern that flooded Mr. Stark’s expression.

“Uh, okay, kid…I can drive you, I guess.” The elevator opened and they both entered. Peter hoped Mr. Stark couldn’t tell how anxious he was. Throughout the whole drive, Peter was nearly silent, watching the scenery whiz by and trying to keep his breathing under control. He could feel Mr. Starks eyes on the back of his head.

As they neared his apartment, Peter’s fears were confirmed. His eyes landed on the hauntingly familiar car. He shot up in his seat.

“You good there, bud?” Mr. Stark was eyeing him.

Peter slouched back down in his seat, eyes never leaving Chad’s car. “Y-yeah, sorry. I’m good.” He took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good. I’ll walk you up then.” Peter's eyes widened at Mr. Starks words and he waved him off.

“T-That’s okay, Mr. Stark. You already drove me home you don’t have to-“ But Mr. Stark was already out of the car and circling around to the passenger side. Peter gulped. He really did not want Mr. Stark to meet Chad. His mentor had a fiery, obstinate personality and Peter could already foresee it clashing explosively with Chad’s. A throat being cleared off to his right caused Peter to jump slightly. He realized with a flush of embarrassment that Mr. Stark was holding his door open, waiting for Peter to get out.

“What’s up with you tonight, kid?” Mr. Stark asked gently like Peter was a nervous rabbit that would sprint at any sudden movement. He was leaning down to peer at Peter, still sitting dumbly in the passenger seat. “Is it that Chad guy?”

At the mention of that name leaving Mr. Stark’s lips, Peter grimaced, earning him a raised eyebrow. Mr. Stark backed away from the door when Peter moved to get out and, thankfully, didn’t comment when Peter decided not to answer his question. Instead, Peter just ambled up the steps, taking a bit of solace in the quiet footfalls of his mentor close behind him. He felt like an inmate approaching his execution.

The pair didn’t even make it to the door before it swung open and they were greeted with Chad’s positively livid expression.

“This is the _last _goddamn time yo-“ Chad snapped but he faltered as soon as his eyes landed on Mr. Stark. The initial shock of seeing Tony Stark standing at the doorstep faded quickly, replaced by a sappy, fake kindness. Peter dared a glance at Mr. Stark and cringed as soon as he did so. Boy, did he look mad. “Ah, Tony Stark, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Chad asked hospitably, and Peter would’ve laughed at Chad’s complete turn-around had he not been so distressed.

“Good evening, _Chad.” _Mr. Stark barely kept the distaste out of his tone. “You seem a little tense. You feeling alright?”

“Just fine, thanks, _Stark._” Chad seemed to be quickly catching on that the two of them were not going to get along. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I believe Peter and I,” Chad’s eyes bored into Peter when he said his name, “need to have a little discussion about curfews.” Peter’s stomach twisted into a knot at the thought of what awaited him when Mr. Stark left.

“Actually, Chad, I do mind. Because y’see- it’s Friday. Peter doesn’t _have _a curfew on Fridays.” Mr. Stark explained with an unnervingly kind smile.

“Oh, yeah? Who exactly put you in charge of him, then?”

“His aunt.” Mr. Stark answered in almost a challenging tone. “Speaking of which, where is she? I’d like to speak with her.” Peter glanced up with wide eyes but his mentor’s gaze was locked onto Chad.

“She’s at work.” Chad ground out. He was clearly tired of this back-and-forth with Mr. Stark.

“Ah, of course. It’ll have to wait until morning, then. C’mon, Pete.” Mr. Stark gripped Peter’s bicep tightly and began pulling him in the direction of the car.

“Now, wait just a minute, Stark, you can’t just-“ Chad made to follow them but Mr. Stark whipped around while simultaneously pushing Peter behind him and got within inches of Chad’s face.

“Actually, _Chad, _I can.” Mr. Stark growled, “And while we’re on the topic of ‘can’ and ‘can’t,’ do you want to know what you _can _do with your little “discussion” about curfews?” Their noses were practically touching. Mr. Starks rage was tangible and Peter could only watch, dumbfounded, from behind the solid mass of Mr. Stark. “You _can _take it, and shove it _right _up your-“

Peter couldn’t take seeing the man so angry. “Mr. Stark!” He cried. All at once Mr. Starks anger was doused like a snuffed candle and the man turned to him, surprise etched onto his face.

“Kid, wh-“

“Seriously, Mr. Stark, it’s okay.” Peter was already moving from behind him towards the apartment door and an equally shocked Chad. He saw Mr. Stark’s hand twitch like he was about to reach out and stop Peter, but the boy was practically already inside. He wouldn’t dare let May come home to the apartment when Chad was like this. Peter turned back to face the men when he crossed the threshold. “Goodnight, Mr. Stark.” Peter sighed in almost a resigned way. “See you next week.”

“You’ll see me in the morning, kid.” Mr. Stark affirmed, then made direct eye contact with Chad. “Bright and early.” Their gazes burned into each other. Chad said nothing as he backed inside and shut the door, far softer than Peter expected. That amplified Peter’s nerves tenfold- he would’ve preferred if Chad slammed it. He was being far too controlled and, frankly, that terrified Peter. He immediately wished Mr. Stark was still there. Chad approached him slowly, his expression unreadable. Chad gripped his bicep in the way Mr. Stark had done only minutes before, and his stomach plummeted through the floor. Peter was dragged by the arm to his own bedroom. He considered crying out but who was there to hear him?

As soon as his bedroom door was shut, Peter was thrown against the wall and he had to bite back a yelp of pain as his head made contact. Just as soon as he recovered from the blow, Chad’s hands were on him again, this time encircling his neck. As Chad’s fingers tightened, Peter’s hands flew up and scrabbled uselessly at the vice grip around his throat. Peter gagged and tears sprung to his eyes as he choked on another cry. Chad brought his face so close that Peter could feel his hot breath on his cheeks. He struggled to turn his face away. “What the hell did you tell Stark, you little shit?” Chad barked into his face.

The hands around his throat loosened only enough for him to splutter out “N-nothing!” Peter’s head was slammed into the wall again and the grip returned with renewed strength.

“_Bullshit!” _Chad hissed. Once again he slammed Peter back against the wall then released his neck only to deliver a backhand to the face so hard that Peter fell to the side, bashing his head on the corner of his desk in the process. Fat tears were streaming down Peter’s face now, and he pressed his body as far into the wall as he possibly could, bringing a hand up to cup his burning cheek. Peter cowered as Chad towered over him. “When Stark comes in the morning, you stay in this room, got it?” Peter was nodding furiously before Chad even finished the statement.

“Y-yes, sir.” He stammered, wiping his eyes roughly.

“Good.” Chad spat. He raised his foot and Peter didn’t even have time to react as Chad gave him a final kick to the ribs and the boy nearly vomited as he heard, rather than felt, something inside him snap. Peter had to physically cover his mouth to keep from screaming. “Don’t leave this fuckin’ room.” And with that, Chad stormed out of his room, shutting the door behind him, leaving Peter sobbing on the floor.

Peter shakily pushed himself up to his knees and clutched his ribs when an icy hot stab of pain flooded his chest. He struggled over to his bed, hardly able to see through the blur of tears, and collapsed on his bed. As soon as his body made contact with the comforter, another lancet of pain flared from his chest and he held his breath, biting his lip until it passed. _This is for May, this is for May _he repeated in his mind over and over. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t _breathe. _Oh, God, he was going to die here in his bed and May would find his body in the morning and she’d be _crushed _and-

_No, Peter,_ he told himself _you’re just having a panic attack, it’s okay, Peter, just take deep breaths. _But his internal pep talk was interrupted by another stab of pain and he sobbed harder. He needed help, he needed to call Mr. Stark, but how in the world could he explain this? What if Chad heard him make the call and came back and hurt him again? The taste of blood in his mouth and the sensation of something warm dripping down his temple was all that was needed to spur him into action. As delicately as possible, Peter sat up, gritting his teeth against the fire in his chest, and reached for his backpack. If he could just reach his phone, Mr. Stark would come back and-

Peter didn’t have time to brace himself as he tumbled forward, right off his bed and onto the floor. The pain in his chest became so intense that Peter was sure he blacked out for a moment and he was genuinely shocked he didn’t bite his tongue off to keep from wailing. He didn’t know how long he was laying uselessly on the carpet before the pain subsided enough for him to move again. He latched onto a strap of his backpack and dragged it over to himself, immediately digging through the front pocket and pulling out his phone. The screen lit up and two new text messages flashed across the screen, the most recent one from just a few minutes ago.

(2) New Messages: Mr. Stark

_You good kid?_

_Pete?_

No, he was most certainly not good. He blinked another wave of tears from his eyes and jabbed Mr. Stark’s contact, hitting the call button and cupping his hand over his mouth, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Mr. Stark picked up on the first ring. “Hey, kiddo, wh-“

“M-Mr. Sta-ark.” Peter wept into the receiver. There was a stretch of silence followed by horns blaring on the other end of the call.

“It’s okay, buddy, I’m on my way back, just give me five minutes.” Mr. Stark instantly understood what was going on, bless him.

As if he snapped out of a daze, Peter suddenly realized what Mr. Stark coming back could mean. Chad would be _furious. _“N-No, Mr. Stark, please don’t come b-back,” Peter choked out, “He-He’s gonna-“

“Kid, I’m Iron Man, do you think I’m gonna let a prick like him mess with my favorite lab partner?” Mr. Stark’s attempt to lighten the mood went greatly appreciated and Peter tried to huff out a laugh but it turned into another sob. “Just breathe, kid, I’m almost there. Can you take some deep breaths for me, Pete?” Peter could hear Mr. Stark taking exaggerated breaths and tried his best to mimic them. “That’s good, good job, Peter. I’m pulling in now, is the door unlocked?”

“I th-think so.” Peter sniffled and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

“Great, see you in a second, kiddo.” The line went dead. Peter let the phone fall to the floor and he buried his face in his hands. He jerked back almost violently when he felt gentle hands wrap around his wrists. “It’s okay, kid, it’s okay- it’s me, it’s Mr. Stark.” As soon as Peter’s hands were delicately pulled away from his face and Mr. Stark’s eyes roved over the injuries, something settled over his expression- something undistinguishable and downright terrifying.

As if on queue, Chad picked that moment to barge into Peter’s room and flip the light on. He opened his mouth to shout something but his voice caught in his throat when he realized who was kneeled in front of Peter. “Ah, Chad, just the bastard I wanted to see.” Mr. Stark growled darkly, rising to his feet and turning to face the other man.

“What the hell are you do-“ Chad was cut off by a right hook to the nose. He stumbled back, mangled nose already gushing blood, grabbing onto the doorframe to keep from falling backward. Peter only watched in wide-eyed shock as his injuries ached. Mr. Stark shook out his hand and flexed his fingers.

“Damn, that felt good.” He chuckled viciously. “In fact, I think I want another.” Mr. Stark punctuated his sentence by throwing another punch which connected squarely with Chad’s jaw. The man fell to the floor with a harsh thud, out cold.

Mr. Stark turned around, shaking out his hand again, and knelt down to the floor again in front of Peter who was merely watching in stunned silence. He brought a hand up to cup Peter’s cheek, grimacing at his split lip and the gash on his temple, and sighed heavily. “How do you feel about a trip to the MedBay, buddy?” Mr. Stark was still eyeing his injuries. Peter was about to respond but Mr. Stark stood and offered him a hand. “You don’t actually have a choice, Helen and her team are already at the tower waiting for us.” Peter went to take his hand but cringed in pain as soon as he made to stand up, one of his hands flying up to clutch at his chest. “Shit, bud, what hurts?” Mr. Stark had concern engraved onto every feature.

“R-ribs…” Peter gasped. Mr. Stark bent down, grabbing one of Peter’s arms and guiding it over his own neck before sliding an arm under his knees and one behind his back. Peter was lifted easily off the ground and Mr. Stark stepped over Chad’s unconscious body and regarded it with an impassive glare. “What’s gonna happen to him, Mr. Stark?” Peter questioned, his voice tinged with pain.

“Don’t sweat the small stuff, kid, I’ve already got people on the way.”

Peter didn’t like how tense Mr. Stark seemed as he carried him down the stairs of the complex. “You’re pretty strong for an old guy, Mr. Stark.” Peter joked with a giggle.

“Watch it, Pete, this old guy can still drop you on your ass.” Mr. Stark seemed to appreciate the shift in tone. They made it to the car relatively easily and were on the way to the Tower within minutes. He had a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel and he was slowly inching over the speed limit, but Peter wouldn’t chide him for it this time around.

As soon as they pulled into the garage of the tower, Peter cringed with embarrassment when he noticed a woman in scrubs waiting at the elevator with a wheelchair. “Mr. Stark, I really don’t think that’s…necessary.”

“Just humor me, Peter.” The woman approached the car and gave Peter a kind smile as Mr. Stark helped him into the wheelchair. Peter’s face was burning with shame the entire trip to the MedBay.

The examination passed by in a blur. All in all, Peter ended up with three stitches on his forehead, a mild concussion, and two fractured ribs. Mr. Stark stuck by his side like glue for the whole thing, even going so far as to hold his hand when the nurses were setting up the IV. Two hours and a phone call to a very frantic Aunt May (who swore up and down that she was going to skin Chad alive), Peter was laying in a surprisingly comfortable bed, doped up on super-powered pain killers. Peter was nearing unconsciousness when May burst into the room, startling him awake.

“Peter, honey, I’m so sorry, I had no idea what kind of person he was.” She placed a gentle hand on her nephew’s cheek, pulling a chair to Peter’s bedside.

“It’s okay, May, you didn’t kno-“ Peter tried to reassure her.

“It is most certainly _not _okay! I swear if I ever get my hands on him I’ll rip his d-“

“While I totally agree with you, May, let’s not get too graphic in front of the baby.” Mr. Stark chimed in from the other side of the bed, looking up from his StarkPad, and Peter frowned like a petulant child. “Besides, it’s gonna be a long time until that guy see’s the light of day again.” He smirked like he was proud of himself.

A wave of exhaustion settle over Peter like a warm blanket, and suddenly a nap seemed very inviting.

“You can go to sleep if you’re tired, honey. I’m sure your crazy super-healing takes a lot out of you.” May quietly said, patting his cheek as his eyes began to droop.

“Sleep tight, spider-baby.” Mr. Stark smiled smugly at him then scooted his chair a little closer to Peter, kicking his feet up to rest them on the bed. He slouched down and re-buried his nose in his StarkPad.

The presence of both of his favorite adults put him at ease. Peter scooted further into the blankets, yawned obnoxiously, smacked his lips a few times for dramatic effect, and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When will our spider son rest  
If you have a trope/whump you want to see, feel free to request it!


	3. Whump: Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I should really be paying attention in class.

The second Peter woke up to his alarm blaring into his ear on Monday morning, he knew he was in for a bad time. He cracked his eyes open, cringing at the way the sunlight was immediately too bright. He glanced over at the clock on his nightstand. If he stayed in bed a minute longer, he was sure to be late for school. Peter sighed heavily. He went to stretch but recoiled when his joints ached with use. He was positive he was getting sick but also had no idea why his enhanced healing wasn’t taking care of it. He hadn’t been sick in ages.

Moaning pitifully, Peter rolled out of bed, barely catching himself in time to avoid faceplanting onto the carpet. For a brief moment, he considered sending a quick text to Ned, explaining the situation and asking him to take down notes for Peter, but he shoved that idea aside, however tempting it was to crawl back into bed and sleep for a few years. Besides, if he missed any class, the school would notify May who would definitely come home from work immediately, or even worse, his second emergency contact on file- Mr. Stark. That was simply out of the question.

His morning commute was relatively uneventful. He resisted the urge to cover his nose with his shirt on the subway ride to Midtown. As he entered the doors of the high school, he was jostled by the other students streaming in but simply too exhausted to say anything. Not that he would, anyway. Ned was hovering around Peter’s locker, glancing around the sea of faces, while Michelle was leaning casually against the wall of lockers looking entirely unamused, her nose buried in a book. When Ned’s eyes landed on Peter’s face, his expression brightened right away and Peter was struck with a pang of guilt for entertaining the thought of staying home and leaving Ned, even if he did feel like death.

Peter gave a small wave and what he imagined was a pitifully meek smile. Ned was the first to pipe up. “Hey, Peter, are you ready for that quiz in Chemist-“ He paused and seemed to finally evaluate Peter’s shoddy appearance. “Uh…you good, man? You kinda look…” Ned trailed off.

“Like shit.” MJ finished for him. “You look like shit, Peter.”

“Thanks for your honesty, MJ” Peter chuckled weakly and sniffed. “But yeah, I guess I feel how I look…’ must be coming down with the flu or something.” Peter sniffed again and opened his locker with achy fingers.

Ned shifted his weight nervously. “But how are you gonna go…y’know, on patro-“

“Your internship.” MJ interrupted again and Peter felt no small amount of relief that both of his friends knew that he moonlighted as a spandex-wearing spider-themed superhero. “How will you do your internship?”

Peter began shoving his textbooks into his backpack. “Like I always do, I guess.” He lowered his voice so no others could hear. “A little cold is no match for Spider-Man.” He said with a hushed tone and a smug grin. He hoped he was right.

Throughout the school day, Peter felt progressively worse. Ned had to nudge him gently several times in several classes when Peter began nodding off. The embarrassment coloring his cheeks deepened every time he had to sniff painfully loudly in class.

When finally, _finally _the bell rang, Peter himself was actually questioning whether he was up for another night of vigilantism. He unceremoniously shoveled his belongings into his backpack, pointedly ignoring another nervous glance from Ned and began the trek back to the apartment.

By the time he reached home, he was sweating bullets even though it was mid-January and couldn’t be hotter than 60 degrees. His nose was thoroughly stuffed and he was already annoyed with mouth-breathing. After fumbling with the keys and failing to unlock the door several times, he finally made it inside.

May poked her head out of the kitchen. “Hey, honey, how was school?” She called pleasantly but then did a double-take just as Ned had. “Geez, Peter, you look terrible, are you feeling alright?” She hurried over, wiping her hands on her jeans, pressing her hand against her nephew’s forehead before he had a chance to respond. Peter sighed in relief at the wonderful coolness of his aunt’s skin. “Sweetie, you’re burning up!” May tugged gently at Peter’s backpack and he grunted in thanks as she took it off his back. Peter let himself be led to his bedroom and collapsed backward when the backs of his knees touched his bed. “You, young man, are certainly not going spider-manning tonight.” May said with finality as she placed his backpack by his desk.

Peter shot up into a sitting position. “What? May, no, I’m fine! It’s just a little sniffle, I promise!” Peter pleaded, but his body was screaming at him and he knew his words were a blatant lie. It certainly wasn’t just a little sniffle.

May put her hands on her hips and Peter instantly knew she wouldn’t be swayed. That was her ‘I mean business’ stance. “Oh, no, spider-boy, there’s no way I’m letting my very sick nephew swing around and fight crime while running a fever!” May seemed very close to total exasperation. Against his better judgment, Peter opened his mouth to protest further but May cut him off. “Don’t make me tell Tony.” She threatened, jabbing a finger in Peter’s direction. “I’ll call him, you know I will.” That shut him up. Peter flopped back down onto his bed, frowning like a petulant child. May seemed pleased. Peter let his body ragdoll playfully as his aunt struggled to heft his legs up onto the bed, turning him so he was laying properly. May flicked his nose in retaliation and Peter scrunched it up at her. “Larb you, kid.” May said as she took her exit. “I’ll make you something yummy to eat.”

Although he knew he wouldn’t be able to taste anything, Peter’s stomach twisted at the thought of eating May’s cooking, especially while he already felt so terrible. “Larb you, too.” He sighed as he closed his eyes. Peter had no intention of staying in tonight. Of course, he felt guilty for going behind his aunt’s back, but Queens needed him. Someone could die if he took a day off. And if someone died, it would be on him. Peter could hear May milling about in the kitchen and he closed his eyes as a wave of exhaustion washed through him. He let the domesticity of it all lull him into a fitful sleep.

Peeling his eyes open, he was met with darkness and silence. If he felt like garbage before his nap, Peter felt like a landfill now. An uncomfortable pressure was gathering behind his eyes, making his head pound in discomfort. Squinting over at the clock revealed it was 10:26 at night. Peter had slept longer than he anticipated. May had gone to her graveyard shift a while ago, he knew, and he was already behind in his imaginary ‘Spider-Man Schedule.’ As soon as he sat up in bed, however, he had to give himself a moment as blood rushed to his head and his vision whited out temporarily. He clenched his teeth through the uncomfortable feeling and placed his forehead in his hands, running his fingers through his sweaty locks. He forced himself to get up, joints protesting his every movement, and shuffled to the bathroom, flicking the light on. The light went straight through to his head, bringing with it a bout of nausea and intensifying his headache. Peter placed his hands on the counter on either side of the sink, clenching his eyes shut and breathing through the uneasy churning of his stomach.

Once the worst of it had passed, Peter spared a glance at his reflection. To put it simply, he _did _look like shit. His eyes were sunken, cheeks gaunt, and sweat beaded his forehead. After glaring at his reflection for several seconds, he wet his hands under the tap and smacked them roughly against his cheeks, enjoying the refreshingly cool water against his burning skin. Peter buried his face in a hand towel and scrubbed vigorously as if he could wipe off the sickness. Heaving another sigh, he made his way back to his bedroom, digging through his closet to yank out the spider-suit. As soon as he shoved one leg into the spandex, he cringed as the usually smooth material suddenly felt like sandpaper. The combination of his sickness and his enhanced senses dialed up the sensitivity of his skin far past what was comfortable. Peter was usually thankful for his powers, but definitely not right now.

He managed to get his suit on though, but when he pulled on his mask a spark of panic shot up his spine. Obviously the suit was designed for him to be able to breathe easily, but the sensation of the fabric over his mouth and already-stuffed nose gave his brain the impression of _I can’t breathe. _

“Peter,” Karen chimed into his ear as the HUD booted up, causing Peter to jolt in surprise, “your heart rate is elevated.”

“Ah, yeah. Sorry, Karen, I’m alright.” She remained silent as Peter took several calming breaths through his mouth, placing a hand at the center of his chest. Once his heart had returned to a more peaceful rate, Peter slid his window open as quietly as he could and slipped out, landing on the fire escape with a soft thud. May was gone, he didn’t need to worry about his volume, but for some reason, he was still putting in the effort to make as little noise as possible. He slid the window closed before easily scaling the side of the building. Once he was perched on the edge of the roof, he took another deep breath, feeling slightly better now that he was outside in (somewhat) fresh air. He stood to full height and surveyed the city skyline. “What’cha got for me, Karen?” As soon as Karen rattled off an address and a waypoint appeared in his field of vision, Peter launched off the building and into the night.

He was doing so well. His sickness had hardly slowed down his reaction time and he had helped so many people, stopped so many muggings and robberies. It wasn’t until he was swinging above a thrall of police cruisers chasing after a speeding car that a sharp ringtone sounded in his ear.

“Call from Mr. Stark.” Supplied Karen. Peter’s stomach dropped as he shot another web, turning a corner sharply at the same time the car did.

“Ignore it, Karen, I’m kinda busy right no-“ The call connected anyways.

“Y’know, Peter, something interested happened just now.” Mr. Stark began, sounding deceptively casual.

“Uh, sorry, Mr. Stark, but can this wait? I’m kind of occupied at the mo-“ Peter was trying to yell over the wail sirens as the car narrowly missed crashing head-on into a signal light.

“I got a call from aunt hottie a few minutes ago,” Mr. Stark barreled on, and if Peter’s stomach could drop further into his feet, it did. “She’s at work at the hospital, right now, and wanted me to double-check and make sure a certain spider-kid was at home and in bed. He’s got a fever, she said.” Oh god, he sounded mad. Peter was so close to stopping the car, now, he couldn’t afford to slip up. The convoy turned another corner with Peter close behind. “So, imagine my shock when I see the aforementioned sick spider-kid is _not _at home, but swinging around Queens in tights.” Peter could imagine Mr. Stark sitting in the lab, buried in projects, while he lectures Peter. “It’s a glitch, right? I know my tech isn’t _capable _of glitching, but I also know my mentee isn’t capable of disobeying his guardian. So between these two equally impossible scenarios, I’ve decided to give you the benefit of the doubt.” Mr. Stark cleared his throat and shifting could be heard. “Was I mistaken, Peter? Am I giving you too much credit?”

“M-Mr. Stark, I really can’t talk now,” Peter landed heavily on the roof of the speeding car, using his stickiness to his advantage as he hunkered down and made his way to the windshield.

He could hear Mr. Stark sigh heavily and there was a lengthy pause. “Do you need help, kid?” He offered, and Peter would feel touched if he wasn’t so focused. Peter was in the metaphorical doghouse with his mentor and he was still offered help? How sweet.

“N-not at the moment, Mr. Stark.” Peter was almost to the windshield when the car lurched forward as if the driver was suddenly aware of his presence and trying to shake him off. And then, as if the universe was delivering him his karma for sneaking out, Peter was hit with a wave of vertigo so intense he almost lost his grip on the car. He cursed the universe softly and readjusted his grip, trying to shake the dizziness out of his head.

“You sure, Pete? Sounds like you’re having a rough go of it.” Mr. Stark sounded a little less casual now. Peter took a moment to recollect his head.

“I’m sure, Mr. Stark, it’s oka-“ As soon as Peter began his reassurance, another dizzy spell hit him and the car simultaneously came to a full stop, smashing into a lamp pole, launching Peter several yards down the street. He impacted with the ground and he could already feel the road burn forming on his skin. Distantly, Peter could the police shouting orders and the demolished lamp post collapsing as he rolled over onto his back, unable to contain a pitiful groan of pain.

Peter’s head felt like it was underwater or filled with cotton. He could hardly make out what Mr. Stark was barking into his ears. “-eter! _Peter! _Answer me, kid, what the hell was that noise?” Mr. Stark’s voice was far from casual now. Vertigo punched Peter in the gut once again and he clenched his eyes shut, shoving the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“don’ feel so g-good, Mr. Stark.” Peter groaned. He could hardly even hear himself speak. He wasn’t sure if he even _did _speak. Nausea accompanied the dizziness now and Peter had to bite his tongue to keep the contents of his stomach on the inside. Now that the initial adrenaline of the car chase was leaving him, his sickness crashed down on him like a sack of bricks. Everything hurt. His joints ached and his already over-sensitive skin burned with white-hot pain from skidding so far down the road. Everything was muffled and he was suddenly very cold but sweating profusely.

Mr. Stark’s voice resurfaced out of the haze. “-m on my way, buddy, just hang on, you’re okay.” Peter idly wondered whether Mr. Stark was reassuring Peter or himself. He turned his head lazily, the movement igniting another flash of pain in his head, and saw an officer jogging in his direction. He was shouting at Peter but couldn’t be heard over the ringing in his ears. Peter turned his gaze back to the night sky. It was spinning slowly but Peter was too tired to care. No stars were visible, he noted with a tinge of regret. He had never seen the stars without the mess of light pollution. The officer was almost upon him now but Peter didn’t think he’d be able to stay awake to talk to him. The dizziness and nausea and aching body were all too much. Too much input.

Peter let his eyelids fall closed and he sighed heavily, trying in vain to shut everything out so he could finally take a nap. Something heavy impacted the ground a few feet away but the noise was not enough to startle Peter awake. The sensation of someone hovering over him, however, forced Peter into cracking his eyes open. He was greeted with the welcome sight of his mentor, out of the suit and on his hands and knees next to him.

“Oh, hey…Mr. S’ark…” Peter mumbled out. The mask was suddenly too suffocating and he reached up with a weak arm to yank it over his head. As soon as his fingers brushed the seams, a calloused hand gently pulled his own away from the mask.

“Nope, mask stays on, spider-kid.” Mr. Stark couldn’t keep the tension out of his voice as he glanced at the scene behind them. “What the hell happened?” He questioned as gently as he could, turning back to Spider-Man.

“Fell off th’…th’ car.” Peter mumbled, barely loud enough for Mr. Stark to hear.

Mr. Stark grimaced. “Why in god’s name were you on top of the-“ He paused and took a breath. “Y’know what, nevermind. Let’s get you out of here, buddy.” Peter gave a weak thumbs up to that and his arm fell weakly back down to his side. “Fri, what’s his body temperature?” He heard Mr. Stark ask as his suit encased him. Peter was shocked when he heard a soft “Almost one hundred and three degrees, boss,” from inside the suit. He had super hearing, sure, but he’d never been able to hear FRIDAY from inside the suit before. His senses must really be going haywire. Mr. Stark hissed out a quiet _Jesus _as he bent down and hefted Peter’s pliant body into his arms. The pair launched into the sky, ignoring the protests of the officers down below, and when Peter’s hand reached up to grab his mask, nothing stopped him. As soon as the mask was yanked off his head, Peter sighed in relief as the cool air whipping past them graced his skin. The Iron Man armor looked down at Peter’s face almost imperceptibly, then returned it’s gaze to the skies ahead. Peter smiled despite himself when he was gripped a little tighter and they flew a little faster. The comfort of safety associated with simply being in Mr. Stark’s presence combined with the intense temperature at which Peter’s brain was currently boiling inside of his skull was enough to drag him into unconsciousness.

**Tony’s POV **

Tony glanced down at the (alarmingly) featherlight form he was jetting over Queens. His eyes were closed. If FRIDAY hadn’t detected the stab of panic that shot through Tony and reassured him that he was only unconscious, Tony would’ve thought the kid had died right there in his arms.

“Divert remaining energy stores to the jets, Fri.” Tony commanded lowly.

“Boss, you’re in danger of overheating-“

“We’ll make it, just _do it._” Tony tried his best to avoid being an ass to his AI. She didn’t technically have the capacity to be offended at his tone but it still wasn’t her fault that the kid was so stupidly self-sacrificing. The suit lurched as the Tower came into view.

“Shall I call Dr. Cho, boss?” FRIDAY suggested, ever the helpful one.

“No need,” Tony touched down carefully on the landing pad. “I can deal with a fever, at least. Kid’s got super healing, anyways.” Tony set off speed-walking into the penthouse, heading straight for the couch. He was grateful he had the suit to carry Peter, his old heart wouldn’t be able to take it, even with how light the kid was. As gently as he could, he laid the kid down on the couch and received an uncomfortable moan in response. _Well, at least he’s still not dead, _Tony thought as the suit bled away around him and retreated into the housing unit. Cupping the back of Peter’s head and lifting it gingerly, he yanked a pillow over and lowered the kid’s head onto it. As Tony studied Peter’s slightly pained face, he was struck with the realization that he was out of his league. Pepper would know what to do, but she wasn’t even in the country. He had no idea how to take care of a sick kid, what was he _thinking? _Tony swallowed uncomfortably and his breaths came harder.

“Boss,” FRIDAY chimed in, “You need to breathe. Mr. Parker needs you.”

At her words, Tony clenched his eyes shut and heaved a sigh. She was right, he could have a panic attack after he helped the kid. “Okay…” He breathed out. “Okay, you’re right.” He opened his eyes and put on his best 'determined' face. “I know I said I could handle it, but I lied…so, uh…”

“You need to lower his temperature first.” FRIDAY spoke up instantly as if she was expecting it. “Place cool, wet cloths on his forehead, behind his neck, and under each knee.” Tony launched into action, practically sprinting into the bathroom and grabbing an armful of washcloths before sprinting back to the kitchen and dumping them into the sink, turning the tap to the coldest setting. While the cloths were soaking, he returned to the couch, perching on the edge and hauling Peter into a sitting position. He guided the kid’s head to rest against his shoulder while he reached around and tugged the spider-suit’s zipper down with no small amount of difficulty. He laid Peter back onto the couch while peeling the suit away from the kid’s body and cringed at what he saw. His chest was marred with angry red patches of skin, centered around his shoulders. _Oh, yeah, he _did _say he got thrown off a car. Wait, prioritize, Tony, _He told himself. As soon as the suit was around his waist and his skin was exposed to the air, Peter’s nose scrunched up and he turned his face into the couch. Tony had to resist the urge to coo at the sight- it would be endearingly cute if the kid’s brain weren’t cooking in his head right now.

When Tony started shucking the suit down Peter’s legs (silently thanking God that he was wearing shorts underneath it), the kid groaned again and began turning onto his side. “No, no, no, kid,” Tony’s hands fluttered around his injured shoulders then decided on just grabbed his bicep, attempting to flatten him back onto the couch. “C’mon, work with me here, buddy.” Tony yanked the suit the rest of the way off and returned to the kitchen, practically sprinting the rest of the way and turning the sink off just in time before it overflowed. He wrung out the cloths, drenching himself and the counter in the process, gathered them in his arms and plopping them down on the side table by the couch. He folded a cloth neatly and as soon as the cold material made contact with Peter’s forehead, the kid’s eyes opened blearily.

“Hurt’s Mr. S’ark…” He groaned out.

Tony wormed another folded cloth behind Peter’s neck and grimaced sympathetically when the kid moaned again. “Yeah, I imagine cold cloths don’t feel great when your skin is on fire but it has to be done.” The kid reached up and pawed weakly at the cloth on his forehead. “Ah, no, kid, leave it.” Tony gently smacked his hand away to which Peter stuck his tongue out. “Glad to see you still have personality.” Tony chuckled, working the remaining cloths under his knees. Peter let his eyes fall shut again and Tony felt himself sigh in relief. He looked up to the ceiling and asked, “What now, Fri?”

“Hydration, boss. He needs to drink water.” She replied.

“That I can do.” Tony heaved himself up and back to the kitchen, retrieving a water bottle from the refrigerator. Plopping back down to the floor in front of the couch, he tapped the bottle gently against Peter’s cheek. “Here, spider-kid. Drink up.” Peter cracked his eyes open to give the bottle a mean sideways glare before shutting his eyes tightly again. “Don’t think I’m above dumping this on you, Pete.” Peter’s eyes remained shut. “Alright, you asked for it.” Tony made a show of cracking open the water bottle. That seemed to do the trick, as Peter sat up and snatched the bottle from Tony, still glaring. As soon as the bottle touched the kid’s lips, he tipped it back and chugged greedily, apparently not knowing how thirsty he really was. Tony felt a shit-eating grin spread on his face as the kid knocked it back in one go.

Once the bottle was empty (and tossed aside by a delirious super-kid), Tony dropped his forehead to rest on the edge of the couch, near Peter’s hip. He felt the panic attack he staved off earlier edging at the corners of his conscious and he bit down on the inside of his cheek in an effort to focus on anything else. Suddenly, there was a small weight resting on Tony’s head, and he realized with a rush of affection that Peter had plopped his hand on Tony’s hair. His forehead remained pressed into the couch as Peter uncoordinatedly patted Tony’s hair as if he were petting a dog.

“Thanks, Mr.,” Peter mumbled before heaving a sigh. “Mr. Tony.” And with that, his breathing evened and Peter promptly checked out. A small smile graced Tony’s lips as the kid _finally _used his name. It only took a fever to draw it out of him.

Tony knew Peter was out but that didn’t stop him from whispering “Anytime, kiddo.” And placing his own hand on Peter’s head, carding his fingers gently through the curls being careful to avoid knocking away the cloth. The pair stayed that way for a while. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment or I'll cry.  
Come yell at me on tumblr: 420genocide420 (that's how you know I have class)


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